


The Arcanum of Serov's Keloid

by akuma_river



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (2012), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-05-08
Updated: 2013-05-09
Packaged: 2017-12-10 19:01:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,545
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/789156
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/akuma_river/pseuds/akuma_river
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There are things in Tony Stark's past that he doesn't talk about and there are things he doesn't know. Everything comes to a head when he is captured one day and the after effects of which makes everyone around him confront his past.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> First time out for a Marvel fic. No beta (offers will greatly accepted, let me know in comments). Crit is always welcome. As is love, comments, and gifts of fanart and fanfic. Feel free to play with what you wish. Flamers will be ignored. I don't feed the trolls.

The moment that Tony Stark woke up he realized he was in trouble. It was a hazy realization as thoughts were hard to keep track of and kept flowing in out of his mind. He's been hyperactive, drunk, and high and has gone from one thought to the next to the next by a series of miniscule interconnected threads before, but this was even a new state for him to be in.

The very moment he had the thought that he was in trouble it flowed away like water through cupped hands as he became distracted by the color of the floor he was laying upon. It was hard to see in the dim ambiance around him but it looked like an ordinary concrete floor except there was these strange glowing symbols etched painted on it.

Tony was distracted by looking at the symbols. _What were they? Where they etched into the ground? What caused that? But then why did it seem like they were painted? Why was it glowing? Oooh pretty colors._

These and other more numerous thoughts were cascading in his mind as he lifted his head trying to figure out where he was. But he kept getting distracted by something else and his line of thought of trying to get from _a) in trouble b) where am I? c) who kidnapped me? d) I got kidnapped didn't I? e) it's not Fury is it? f) why is it so hard to focus? g) how am I going to get out of this? to h) ass kicking time to commence_ kept getting interfered with and blocked by other thoughts intruding in and it looked more like a massive tic tac toe game than anything like a straight line. Tony's mind was in complete disarray and behaving like that weird fish with the memory problem from that kid's fish movie, 'Nemo' Tony's lips formed the name.

It didn't help that there was some voice in his head yelling at him. He couldn't understand what they were saying as each time he tried to focus something else would pop up in mind and take him away from the voice. All he could understand was that they were yelling his name. He absurdly wanted to say simultaneously that his name was Tony not Stark and that's his name and not to wear it out but by the point he had the thought to speak and tried to form the words with his lips something else would drag him away from it. 

At the moment Tony was trying to turn his head away from the ugly drab floor with the pretty glowing colors and towards something else. His eyes were stinging and he felt tears in them. _Tony Stark doesn't cry. But why not? Why can't Tony Stark cry? What's wrong with crying? What is crying? What hurts? Why his eyes? Oh staring and not blinking? Why not blinking? I can't blink? Blinking is what?_

It took some effort but Tony had turned his face to the ceiling. In all honestly it didn't look like much. It was a gray that looked like, “smog.” There was a sound off to the side. _Did Tony speak? He spoke? Awesome. Why awesome? What's awesome. Ooh look smog. Smog. Smoooog._ “Zog. Zod. Bod. Cod. Dodd. Fod. God. Hod. Jod. Kod. Lod. Mod. Nod. Odd. Pod. Quad. Rod. Sod. Todd. Vod. Wad. Xod. Yod. Zo...”

Tony's eyes were facing the wall now. _What happened? Sound? A sharp sound? Smack? Pain? Side of face? Cheek? Cheek bone? What bone is that? What is that name? What is name?_

_Vibration by him? Vibration? Sound? Steps? Who is stepping? Stepping where? Why? What is why?_

The voice yelling even louder in his head. _Head? Mind? Ears? Which ear? Why ears? What are ears? How is voice in head? Noise? Hairs in ears? Sound? Sound like those vibrations? Steps? Sound like steps? Voice? What is voice? Sound through waves? Why in head? Why in ear? Which ear?_

Around and around and around the carousal of his mind Tony went and where he stopped no body knows. “Knows. Nose. Pose. Quose. Rose. Soes. Toes. Voes. Woes. Xoes. Yoes. Zoes. Bows. Cose. Does. Foes. Hammer. Slammer. Jammer. Kammer. Lammer. Mammer. Nammer. Pammer. Quammer. Rammer. She said. He said. Sell Seashells. Bells...”

 

It was times like these that Fury regretted not having Stark sent for a psych eval. At least then he would know if Stark was just spouting off words to throw off his captors or if he was truly out of his mind. However, the thought of actually knowing the answer to that sent him more worries rather than less because he always thought that Stark was at a little unhinged and that was before the fucking idiot made himself into a Superhero. 

_Iron Man. Hmph._ The name still grated on him. _Fucking tabloid reporters and their need for naming things._

Now? No one knew and everyone was a little too frightened of what the answer might be – let alone Stark's reaction to the suggestion of a psych eval – to even try it.

The pulsing vein in his forehead was throbbing in time with his heartbreak. _Goddamn fucking idiot._

Stark and his disappearing acts after 'saving the day' were driving him infuriatingly crazy. If it wasn't for that fucking com unit and JARVIS they never would've known that Stark was kidnapped. Again. 

To top the fucking cherry on top of this FUBAR goddamn clusterfuck was JARVIS telling them that Stark was unsuited, alive, but unresponsive. 

_Goddamn Stark and his fucking Extremis self._ He was going more unsuited than suited these days sending his fucking 'drone suits' out to fight. It was a fucking nightmare.

It didn't help that Fury was green as all fucking envy because he wanted those suits and Stark was a fucking cocktease stripper with showing but not allowing any touching.

The absolute worst part of this situation was that there was nothing, goddamn fucking nothing, that Fury could do. He was counting on Barton and Romanov to get there in time to save Stark but from what he was hearing over Stark's ramblings it sounded like they wouldn't make it in time. 

JARVIS alerted them about thirty minutes ago that Stark had gone missing. He just disappeared, completely off the grid. Then somehow popped up halfway around the world. They knew a magic user was involved. Either that or a mutant. Beyond that there was nothing they knew. They couldn't hear everything over the com and Stark was rambling nonsense. What they could hear, however, wasn't good. Something about preparing Stark for something. What for, they didn't have a fucking clue.

Barton and Romanov were still about an hour away from Stark's gps signal that JARVIS gave them. So far he's stayed put. Which was good since they didn't have to worry about him bouncing the fuck all over the globe. But also very fucking bad as it showed that they arrived where they wanted and they were prepared for something to do with Stark and they were nearly ready to begin.

_Goddamnit! Howard's son was going to die and he was unable to prevent it. Again._

New York and the dimensional worm hole and then clusterfuck of Malibu still sent shivers down his spine. As much as he fucking hated Stark – and he did at times because Stark was a goddamn teenager with unlimited amounts of money, disrespect for authority, and potential for catastrophic destructive abilities – he was fucking relieved that he still lived. 

Fury would never admit it under any amount of torture but he was fond of the fuckhead.

“Barton, talk to me.” Fury demanded.

“Still at least 40 minutes out. How's it on your end?” Barton's voice carried over through Fury's com unit. 

“Fuck,” was Fury's answer. They were fucked. Stark was fucked. The only thing they had left was to hope they were going to torture him for answers instead of just killing him straight off. They certainly wanted something from him as the 'preparations' spoke of it.

“That bad?” Barton questioned his voice level, calm, and professional.

“They're nearly done with preparing whatever it is they Stark for,” Fury growled out his frustration with the situation.

“Fuck.” There was a short pause. “Do we have have any idea on what they need Stark for? Are we expecting intense interrogation or something else?”

Fury sighs. “None.”

“Sir,” Romanov cuts in, “What's changed?”

Fury's response is quick and to the point of how fucked the situation is. “What we're hearing from Stark's mic suggests that they are finished with preparing whatever the fuck they needed Stark for.” 

“You're saying...” Barton started to speak but then dropped off. Probably unable to speak the words they all know but dread to think about. 

“Understood, sir,” Romanov cuts in. The mic goes silent. There is nothing more to be said. 

 

Clint and Natasha are in one of the Quinjets hurrying to Stark's location. It's been silent in the aircraft since Fury's last update on Stark. 

Natasha is in her work mode. As if Clint needed another sign of how dire the situation was. They were still at least 30 minutes out from Stark and there was nothing anyone could do. All they had was a hope that they wanted something from him. Something that they needed him alive and in one piece for. 

It was a fucked up situation when you needed to hope that someone you knew was going to be tortured, because at least that meant they would still be alive long enough for you to save them. 

Stark was a pro at getting out of fucked up situations but this time he wasn't even cognizant of his situation let alone in a position to help. He was helpless to what they were going to do to him.

Clint may not like Stark most of the time. He has that habit of pissing off everyone who knows him. Even those that Stark likes. Yet, this, this was something that he never thought would happen. It was terrifying in a way. Stark was the one they – The Avengers, SHIELD, whathaveyou – went to for help. It was bizarre to think that they had to rescue him. 

Clint turned and looked back once more to the stash of medical gear in the Quinjet. At first when they were packing up he thought that Natasha was bringing too much and underestimating Stark. Now, now he wonders if it will be enough for what they are both envisioning that they are going to walk in on. 

That was when the _screaming_ started over the intercom. Clint jerked back in his seat and looked over to Natasha. It wasn't them. It wasn't Fury. It had to be Stark. It had begun.

For the first few minutes Clint thought the screaming might pass. But it continued unabated with increasing pitch and desperation. From what Clint could tell there was no long pause for breath or changing of tools. It was just one long continuous explosion of sound of Stark shrieking in absolute agony. It sent the hairs on the back of his neck to standing attention. _Jesus fucking Christ. What they hell are doing to him?_

It had been five minutes and the screaming didn't stop. It was getting to Clint. He wanted to shoot something or someone to just get rid of the aggression building in him having to listen to Stark screaming like that. _Pass out. For god's sake, Stark, pass the fuck out. Just let go._

He didn't. Stark just kept screaming. Clint wanted to shut it off and his hand went to the switch when Natasha grabbed his hand. Her hand tightly squeezing his told him what he already knew. They need to listen. They _have_ to listen. It's the only way they know what's going on. The dark look in her eyes told him that revenge will come when they get there.

Stark for all his pain in the assness had earn their respect and loyalty. He was one of theirs as much as they were one of his and _nobody_ got away with hurting what belonged to them. _No one._

It was at the fifteen minute mark that silence eclipsed the intercom. For a moment Clint had the thought that Stark might have died. Shock from the torture sending him into cardiac arrest or something. A chill went down his spine at that suggestion so he went for something more optimistic, that Stark had passed finally or his torturers were finally taking a break.

It was just a few short moments of silence with this strange echoing sound in the background and what Clint thought could be breaths and the screams started back up.

Clint's hands tightly clenched. _When will it stop? When he's dead? I thought they wanted something from him?_

Looking out of the windshield Clint tried to distance himself from what he was hearing. It was enormously difficult to tune it out but he had to. Unlike Natasha or Fury he couldn't fully distance himself from the knowledge of what he was listening to without tuning it out into white noise. Unlike them, he couldn't stand to attentively hear Stark's screams listening for any clue about what was happening. 

He just couldn't. 

So Clint tuned it out. He turned Stark's shrieks of endless pain into white noise like the static of radio signals and focused instead on what he was going to do when they arrived at the building. He instead looked at the building's schematics and blue prints that JARVIS gave them when he located Stark. He thought about what kits he would need to take to triage Stark quickly before they brought him to the Quinjet. What weapons he would need on him to make a successful infiltration. What steps he would take to secure the premises before they moved in to rescue Stark. What path would be the quickest to Stark, which ones he thought might be booby-trapped, whether or not he and Natasha should split off. 

Clint focused his attention to the mission and turned everything else off. The mission was what mattered. A simple extraction of a kidnappee. Textbook. Just another day on the job. 

Clint was so in the zone and focused that it took Natasha grabbing his wrist once more to take him out of it. It was a shock to his system because the first thing he became aware of was Stark screaming in the background.

It took Clint a moment to reorient himself. Stark was still screaming though it was sounding considerably more hoarse and garbled. _God, Stark. What the hell are they doing to make you_ scream _like that for so long?_

Clint looked at Natasha and she released her grip on his wrist. He then looked at navigation readout and realized they were five minutes out from Stark's location. Clint gave a short nod and undid his seatbelt and went to the back of the Quinjet to get ready.

There were four SHIELD soldiers in full combat gear seated against either side of the aircraft. Clint went to where his gear was and started to suit up. Pulling out the medical gear bags they would need for Stark. 

Clint was in the midst of finishing packing up the gear he needed when Stark's scream hit a particular high pitch that Clint had never heard before in a grown man. Clint turned towards Natasha but they were in the process of landing and he had to grab onto the wall to stabilize himself.

The landing was one of the smoothest that Natasha has done and then she was out of her of her seat and suiting up with a quickness and precision that impressed Clint.

It was in that moment that Stark's high pitched screech went to an even higher pitch with a garbled sound and then cut off. It was silent in the Quinjet as they waited for Stark to start screaming again. 

He didn't.

Clint took a deep breath put in his com unit, grabbed his bow, notched an arrow and opened the door. It was time.

There was no one around. Not a single guard. Nothing felt right. They were moving slowly without saying a word hoping that Stark would start up again or even speak to them.

White noise static was the only thing they could hear on the com units. Clint figured that Fury was doing the same. It had only been a few minutes. Maybe Stark passed out. There was no need for the dark thoughts to enter and for them to think that Stark was dead. _Stay positive._

They entered the building and there was still no guards. There was a feeling in the air like static after a storm. Clint shot a look to Natasha and she nodded. Clint took off running down the hall as silently as he could at the fastest pace he could manage towards where Stark's signal was coming from with Natasha a few paces behind him covering his six. 

This was beginning to feel less like a trap and more like magic was involved. _Loki? Someones else?_

Suddenly there was the sound of footsteps that came across the com. Heavy loud footsteps that reminded Clint of the Hulk.

There is the sound a woman shrieking out, “What is this?!” The sound of more heavy footsteps then a grunt. There is also the sound things breaking or exploding it is difficult to tell. 

“Answer me!” the woman screams out and then a sharp slap is heard. She further screams out, “This cannot be! My spell is perfect! Everything was perfect! Yet, this is not the worst memory!” More sounds of slaps or hitting carry over the com. _Is Stark being hit? The person with the Hulk-like footsteps who's with her? What's going on?_

They all had the feeling that magic was involved in Stark's kidnapping but the woman screaming about a spell failing means that they kidnapped Stark to cast a spell upon him. His captors wanted something from him but they had to do a spell first and now it failed in someway. _Memory? How? What failed? Is Stark dead?_

“SKURGE!” the woman screamed in a loud sharp pitch. “Clean this mess up!”

 _Mess?_ Clint's stomach fell. _Fuck. We're too late._

The sound of the heavy Hulk-like being walking and moving was heard through the com. 

“Not like that you imbecile! I want it gone! My wards have been tripped and his people are on the way! Just take your ax to the body! Cut it into pieces!

 _Wards? It? Body? Pieces?_ Clint turns to look back at Natasha just steps behind him. They had their answer. Natasha nods and they change tactical maneuvers from keeping silent to getting there as fast as possible. If Stark was dead, well, then there was no point in keeping silent anymore and they needed to get there before the dead-to-be bastards escaped.

The SHIELD combat soldiers picked up on what they were doing and soon their foot falls were echoing in the hallway. 

It was always strange to go from silent stealth steps to the pounding of running. The shock of the quiet being disturbed like that always made it seem like an army was coming. It was a form of intimidation and Clint wanted them to feel the fear that SHIELD was coming for them. 

Because they were. 

You don't take something that belongs to them and break it without feeling the full force of their vengeance. It was why they were called _The Avengers_. 

Clint and Natasha were the most bloodthirsty, callous, and ruthless ones of the lot and they were the ones closest to Stark's body and his captors. The dead-to-be bastards had no idea what hell they've unleashed upon themselves.

Clint and Natasha are within sight of the door when the woman screeches once more, “SKURGE! Leave it! Let's go! They are coming!” There was a strange indescribable sound from the com and then nothing. 

Clint glanced at Natasha and they sped up even faster. They charged towards the door and Natasha kicked it open.

Clint went through the first. 

Natasha ran into his back as Clint was standing completely still in shock. “What...the...fuck?!” Clint exclaimed as the sight that met his eyes was not something that he was prepared to see.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The answer you were looking for.

Clint went through the door first. 

Natasha ran into his back as Clint was standing completely still in shock. “What...the...fuck?!” Clint exclaimed as the sight that met his eyes was not something that he was prepared to see. 

“Clint?” Natasha queried and turned her head to where she had a clear view of what Clint saw. Surprise took her but it was barely visible on her face. “Well, that's not something you see everyday.” 

“What the fuck is going on there? Is Stark dead or alive?” Fury exploded across the com.

“Other?” Clint questioned looking towards Natasha.

Natasha rolls her eyes. Clint knows that she did that in response to what he said, but come on it's not like she can blame him. Even she's surprised.

“Sir,” Natasha begins, “something unexpected has occurred.”

“Oh,” Fury sing-song replies full of sarcasm. “ _Something unexpected has occurred_. Like I couldn't fucking tell that from Barton's goddamn non-answer. What fucking form of _something unexpected_ are we looking at?”

“Something,” Natasha pauses as she looks at the _something unexpected_ still sitting there on the ground not but a hundred feet in front of her and Clint. “Something that defies logic, sir.”

The silence on the other end of the com was palatable. “Are you,” Fury began to say then halted. “Are you fucking tell me that something related to magic has done something to Stark that you find yourself completely the fuck unable to describe? At all?”

“Yep,” Clint chimed in. It was fucking unbelievable. Well it was and it wasn't. SHIELD has been dealing with the strange shit since its inception but only since Thor and his hammer dropped out of the New Mexico sky has things taken a fuck turn for _The Twilight Zone_ and _Harry Potter_ by equal measure. As if the world couldn't get any more strange with humans, politics, mutants, biological experiments run amok, and advanced weapons technology backed superheroes now there has magic to fuck around with.

“Barton!” Fury snapped over the com. Clint was unapologetic and left the description of the situation to Natasha as they cut him out of the conversation while curiosity drew Clint closer to the _something unexpected_. Though that seemed to be a misnomer as it was more along the lines of _some_ one _unexpected_ as it was a person they were all staring at. A small person in big clothes in the middle of a circle etched into the floor that looked like it might be magic related.

He, at least Clint thought it was a he – it's hard to tell sometimes when they're that young – was staring right the fuck back at them. It was creepy and reminded Clint of all those horror films like _The Shining_ , _The Grudge_ , _Children of the Corn_ , and so forth with the creepy kids who kill people.

Yet, it wasn't the creepy stare that sent chills down his spine. It was the dead glassy look in his eyes that reminded Clint of Natasha on her bad days. Something bad happened to this kid and he was completely shut off.

Taking that one step towards him – after Clint stowed his bow with his arrows over his shoulder – had garnered Clint the direct and exclusive attention of the kid. Not even raising his hands in a placating manner to show him that Clint meant him no harm released him from his watchful gaze. Clint turned to look behind him to see if anyone else was going to make a move for the kid or give him ideas on what the fuck to do.

They had all come bursting into this room expecting to find Stark's tortured and mangled body with his captors but instead they find this kid sitting in this strange magic array and no one else around. The sci-fi fantasy geek in Clint – normally this would be a bad thing to be but considering who he hangs out with and what FUBAR situations he deals with on a daily basis he considers it research and team cohesive building materials – tells him that he knows exactly who that kid is but the pragmatic side of Clint is vehemently denying it. 

They can't deal with this situation if what he thinks happened actually happened. It's not in his repertoire and since New York he has a whole 'nother skillset for dealing with the fucking unexplained yet even this would take the cake.

No one else is making a move for the kid. Not one single person. Natasha is talking to Fury and the other SHIELD guys are standing around 'assessing' the scene. _Cowards_ , Clint thinks snarkly. _Afraid of a fucking kid_. 

Then again, it's not like he can blame them. When Clint turns back around to the kid he's realized that the kid hasn't moved an inch or even blinked his eyes. He's just sitting there in a pile of tattered clothes that are vastly too big for him _staring_ at Clint.

It's those hazel glazed eyes that Clint sees when he walks a few more slow steps towards the kid that does Clint in. _Jesus fuck. Oh holy fucking christ. It's him, it's really_ him. Clint turns back around towards Natasha pointing at the kid and trying to convey with his slack jaw what he can no longer deny but she's still busy talking to Fury and barely glances at him. _She_ knows. _She has to know. She knows Stark better than me. I can't be the only here that has realized_ who _that is, right?_

Even the realization and acceptance of what he is looking at doesn't stop the shock coursing through his body. _She said the spell failed. That it wasn't his_ worst memory. _What the fuck does that even mean? What the fuck were they trying to accomplish?_

It's when Clint gets a few more feet closer that he realizes he's smelling blood and it's coming from the kid. He can't seen any wounds or blood on him due to the tattered clothing still covering him, but Clint knows what he's smelling. Clint squats down to the kid's eye level and with the calm steady and soft voice that they train you to use when confronted with victims in shock and distress and queries, “Kid, are you alright?” 

In reply the kid just tilts his head slightly to the side as if in wonder that Clint is addressing him. _Shock? Has to be. I would be._

“Kid, Tony...” That gets a reaction but not one that Clint expected. The kid gets this weird frightened look on his face and loses the slacks as he drags himself backwards away from Clint as if he's suddenly terrified of him. _What the fuck!? I only said his name?_

“Kid, I'm sorry! I won't call you that.” He stops. Just like that, the kid stops in his frightened escape. Clint breathes a sigh of relief and wonders why saying his name got a reaction like that.

“Kid, you okay?” The kid looks up at Clint with a clear _what the fuck do you think_ look that was pure Stark. 

Clint felt at once a bit of joy and sorrow burst inside him. It was Stark but it _wasn't_ Stark. This was some kid who resembled him and may act similar to him, but it wasn't him. _Their_ Stark was gone. Maybe for good. There is no way to tell with science and magic experiments. There is always some variable that fucks everything up sideways and you're stuck in this new situation that you never expected and now you have to deal with it. Banner being the poster child for that.

Clint slowly moves so he is a few feet in front of the kid and points towards himself. “My name's Clint.” The kid tilts his head once more. _He recognizes me?_ Clint points towards the kid. “What's yours?”

The kid looks at Clint quietly for several minutes with a judging gaze that is slowly losing the deadness in his eyes. He nods his head a tiny bit and then opens his mouth and tries to speak but only a little hoarse croak comes out. The kid makes a frown and tries again. Still nothing but a harsh croaking sound. He's starting to look frustrated and tries once more but ends up coughing harshly. It continues for a little bit and then turns into a hacking gasping cough. The kid covers his mouth and continues coughing, very deeply. He sounds like someone with pneumonia or emphysema unable to get a solid breath in.

Clint wants to comfort him but he knows that touching him right now might make things worse so he waits for him to calm down. Eventually, the kid does, but he keeps his mouth covered with his hands.

“It's okay,” Clint reassures him. “You don't have to talk right now.” The kid glares him at him balefully in a hunched position from his coughing fit. “Yeah, I know. Not helping.” The kid rolls his eyes.

Clint leans forward. “I know you're scared.” Another baleful look. “Are you hurt?” Another questioning head tilt. “I can smell the blood.” A frightened look and a glance down at the array on the concrete floor that lies before them both before he glances back up and stares straight into Clint's eyes sending him a _so the fuck what_ look. Classic Stark. It brings a small bittersweet smile to Clint's face. 

Clint holds his hands with his palms facing up in front of him.“See, I'm not going to hurt you.” Another eye roll. “I'm not dangerous.” Another judging gaze. “Okay, I am.” A snort. “But not to you.” The kid looks at him intently. “It true, you're safe with me.” For the first time the kid glances away from Clint and towards the SHIELD commandos. “They're with me.” Another eye roll. “We came here to save you.” A sharp look of disbelief. “It's true kid. We came here to rescue you.”

The kid looks at Clint dead in the eyes and he must've seen the truth that Clint was speaking, but he must've also picked up the lie behind the truth that Clint was trying to convey. Because they came here to rescue 'Avenger member and all around pain in the ass genius billionaire philanthropist Tony Stark' not this...this little kid version of him. 

“Okay, maybe not you precisely, but the you who you used to be.” That gets Clint the _what the fuck are you talking about_ look that he thought it would. It brings another diminutive bittersweet smile to his face. The kid rolls his eyes once more. _Probably thinking he's in a room full of idiots and I'm the biggest one. Not exactly true but not exactly false either. Come on kid, let me look._

“Kid,” Clint begins and the kid tilts his head in reply, “let me look.” The kid glares at him balefully and throws a _fuck off, I'm not hurt_ look to him. Another Stark classic. “We both know you're hurt and bleeding somewhere.” He gets another glare. “We aren't staying here all day either.” A snort this time. “We're here to pick you up and take you someplace safe.” That gets him another deep look and doubt crosses the kid's eyes as Clint meets his gaze. “It's okay. Let me help you.”

There is soft tiny nod and then the kid slowly lowers his hands to his lap. Clint's eyes widen a little as he spots blood in the palm of the kid's hands and realizes that it must've happened in the midst of the coughing fit. _Not good. Lung damage? Throat damage? From the screaming?_ He schools his face to hide the worry and nods his head to the kid.

“Okay. That's good. Now I'm going to move closer to you and take a look...” The kid gets twitchy at that. “Just a quick glance to see where the blood is coming from.” A twitch in the kid's shoulders. “Nothing invasive.” Another twitch. “I promise. Okay?” At that the kid calms down once more and nods his head again.

Clint is starting to get a very bad feeling about all of this. This is nothing like what he expected or was prepared for. This kid is Tony Stark, he knows that with all of his instincts. But there's something very off about the way the kid is acting. It's almost like... _He feels like Natasha_ and that sends a chill down his spine. 

If the screaming they heard on the way to rescue Stark was the spell in action and the woman and her 'scourge' didn't see the results until it was over then more than likely this kid's off behavior may not have anything to do with an after affect of the spell. It might be... _Is this normal behavior for Stark as a kid? Jesus does anyone know what Stark's childhood was like?_

Clint pushes those thoughts away and looks the kid over. He's within touching distance now but he doesn't want to touch him without the kid being aware of it. The kid's eyes are glued to his hands. “I'm going to lift the shirt and look underneath. Okay?” The kid takes a swallow and nods his head slightly. “It's okay. I'm not going to touch you.” 

Clint pulls back the front of one of Stark's fancy dress shirts and glances at the skin underneath. _This is all kinds of fucked up._ The kid was covered in bruises. Black, purple, yellow, that ugly phlegm colored green, and there were scratches, cuts, and some bleeding, but nothing like what he was smelling. It didn't add up. He was smelling a lot of blood and it was stronger since he moved closer to the kid. _The back. It has to be the back. Otherwise..._ Well that didn't bode thinking about. “You're doing good kid.” Another snort. “See, I didn't touch you.” Clint lets go of the front of the shirt. 

“Now, I just need to take a peek at your back.” At that the kid grabs his hand and turns a pleading gaze to Clint. “It's okay. I won't touch you. I'll be careful.” The kid squeezes his hand. “I just need to take a look. Okay?” The kid stares at Clint trying to read something in his gaze and then slowly nods his consent again.

 _Oh yeah, this is so fucking not good._ Clint takes a deep calming breath and slowly maneuvers himself behind the kid. The kid hasn't let go of his hand and Clint isn't going to pull it away from him. The kid needs something to anchor himself and for now that just happens to be Clint. _Jesus he's trembling. Stark, christ what did they do to you?_

Clint sees blood spots seeping through the back of the shirt. _Fuck. Shit. Who or what did this?_ He takes a slow steadying breath. He needs to know how bad it is. The kid needs him to be distant and do his fucking job. _I can do this. I have to do this. He_ needs _me to do this._ Clint slowly peels back the collar of the shirt and tries to peek in. It's worse than the front with more darkly colored bruises, cuts, and raised marks upon his skin. _Is that whip marks? A belt? What the fuck!?_ When Clint tries to pull the back of the shirt away from the skin even more so he can see all the way down to find out where the blood is coming from the kid squeezes his hand tightly and softly whimpers. _Fuck. It's dried to his back._

“It's okay. It's okay. I won't pull it off.” Clint sighs deeply. He looks up and spots Natasha looking at him. He shakes his head. _No, he's not okay. Yes, he needs medical attention._ Natasha nods her head sharply and turns to SHIELD commando leader standing near her.

Clint slowly moves back to the front of the kid again. He meets Clint's gaze with small tears in his eyes that he's refusing to let fall. “Hey. It's okay.” The kid glares up at him with the tears welling up in the corner of his eyes. “I know, it hurts, but it's going to be okay.” That gets him a snort. “It is. Because I'm going to make sure it will be.” That gets him another assessing look. “I'll do my best to make sure, trust me.” The kid looks down at where he is still gripping Clint's hand. A bright red spot shows up on his cheeks. _Aw, he's embarrassed._ Clint smiles a little tightly at the kid and the kid sends him another baleful look.

“Listen, we have to go.” That gets him a fearful look. _He doesn't believe me? That we're here to save him? Why?_ “You're coming with us.” The kid looks doubtful at that. “Stark,” Clint speaks in a soft rebuking voice to gain him the kid's attention. He gets a startled look in return but overtly dramatic nothing like the reaction he had to 'Tony.' “I'm going to get you out of here. Okay?” The kid looks at him with a deep scrutiny and Clint feels like his soul is being examined. Then the kid nods his head.

 _It's a start. Now to get him to safety._ “Okay. Can you stand?” The kid looks down towards his legs and then up at Clint and shakes his head once shamefully. “Alright, I'm going to pick you up.” The kid looks up startled and squeezes Clint's hand tightly. “It's okay. I'm going to pick you up.” That gets him a glare. “Gently. I'll be very gentle. Okay?” The kid looks doubtful but nods his head and lets go of Clint's hand.

Clint sends a quick glance to Natasha. She's ordering the men about. They are planning on moving out. Clint bends down and puts one of his arms against the kid's shoulders – above the area where the shirt gets red and sticky and the other under the kid's knees. “Ready?” The kid loops his arms over Clint's head and nods his head once then Clint slowly lift him up. Even though Clint tried to make it as painless as possible it still hurt as he felt the kid squeeze his neck tightly and suck in a quick sharp gasping breath.

Clint softly pats the kid's shoulder gently and whispers, “It's okay. We're done. Easy there,” softly into his ear. It's in this position that he can finally see the kid's legs as they are peaking out from under the dress shirt. Like his chest and back they are covered in bruises and cuts, but it also looks like one of them might be broken. _Fuck. What the fuck happened to him?_

As soon as Clint stands up and starts to walk away from the array one of the SHIELD commandos walks towards them. The kid tightens his grip once more as the commando walks past them. Clint turns his head and sees that he's picking up the clothes from the pile in the array and taking pictures of it. The kid squeezes his neck again and Clint starts to walk towards Natasha once more.

“Easy does it kid. It's okay.” The kid squeezes his neck considerably more tightly before and Clint knows it's a rebuke taking the place of his baleful glares. Clint chuckles. “Now I'm going to introduce you to the one woman you never want gunning for you.” A sharp squeeze. “I mean it, kid. She's lethal.” A slower squeeze. _Smart move, Clint. Just go ahead and scare the terrified abused kid more. Fucking idiot._

“But she's also the best person you want on your side.” A little quicker squeeze. “If she considers you one of hers she will do anything and everything in her power to protect and avenge you.” A short squeeze. “Let me tell you something.” Clint whispers into the kid's ears, “you're one of those she considers hers.” A strong squeeze.

“I know you don't believe me, but you are.” A small huff. “You're right, it is the you who you used to be.” A slow squeeze. “But she also has a soft spot for kids.” A sharp squeeze. “You'll be fine. Just give her your most pathetic puppy dog eyes.” Another little huff.

“Clint,” Natasha says as they reach her. She glances towards the kid and Clint knows that she sees the bruises as the skin around her eyes grows tight in distaste. “Natasha, this is kid.” A sharp tight squeeze. “Kid, this is Natasha.” Another tighter squeeze. Clint chuckles at the kid's ire. _At least it keeps his attention off of what's happened to him._

Natasha glances at them both. A little smile twitching at her lips but her eyes are still that professional stare as they gaze at the kid. “We are ready to pull out. Fury” the kid squeezes tightly at the name “will meet us at the hellicarier when we arrive. We are to take _him_ to medical and then to be debriefed.” The kid tightly squeezes him.

“It's okay, kid.” The kid squeezes back softly. _Scared? Nervous? Worried?_ “Understood,” Clint replies to Natasha and then readjusts his grip on the kid. The kid softly gasps. “Sorry,” apologizes softly to the kid.

The commando leader walks up to them. The kid squeezes Clint's neck. “Easy does it. He's safe,” Clint whispers into the kid's ear and in reply the kid relaxes his grip. “'Mam we've gathered what we could and are ready to pull out.” Natasha nods and presses the com unit in her ear, “Sir, Clint has the boy and the team is ready to pull out.” 

More of the team members walk over to them and the kid squeezes tightly. “Easy,” Clint whispers and the kid relaxes once more. Natasha glances at Clint and he nods his head. She then sends a sharp non-verbal command for them to leave. 

Four of the commandos are at the door and as Clint walks the other four walk behind him. It's a tactical position for the best position to protect the kid (and Clint as he is carrying the kid in his arms), but the kid is nervous because of the proximity of them to him. “Easy. They are there for our protection.” The kid squeezes him again. “Okay, mainly you but I'm carrying you so it's both of us.” The kid snorts. 

Natasha takes up the position at the front and they move out. It takes them twenty minutes to make their way back out of the building. It's slower going than when they ran in. The mission is to extract and protect the kid and get him to the Quinjet safely. While the team knows that the captors left by magical means the team don't know if there are any traps they left for them that would be activated after they left. Magic was still something that SHIELD had no real preparation for. On Earth, so few people have the gift or skill for it to be a real threat instead of just a nuisance. Mutants and science freaks are what they usually run up against so insanely powerful magical users that make the Death Eaters look tame is still out of the far left field and something they aren't equipped to deal with. Especially, when they aren't expecting it.

They make it to Quinjet without an incident and Clint is about to put the kid down and strap him into a seat on the bench but he won't let go. “Kid, I need you to let go.” The kid only tightens his grip. “Kid,” Clint says a little more strict and yanking at the kid's hands. Then the kid whimpers and Clint sighs and lets go. “Fine, you can stay there hanging off of me like a little monkey.” He gets a snort in return for his comment.

Clint turns towards Natasha but she's already in the pilot's seat with the leader of the commandos seated next to her. Sighing Clint sits down and straps them in. “Okay, kid. Just you and me now.” The kid squeezes his neck. “And seven SHIELD commandos,” Clint finishes. The kid squeezes him again. “And the leader and Natasha up front.” 

The kid squeezes his neck again and Clint realizes what the kid wants. “I won't leave you. Okay?” The kid squeezes him tightly. “I promise. I'll look out for you.” The kid squeezes him softly and places his head under Clint's neck.

Clint readjusts his hold of the kid and bundles him up in his arms so he can pet his head. “It will be okay. Shhh. I got you. It's going to be okay.” The kid softly squeezes him back as they take off.


End file.
